Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' friend; Himself a Muse in Sanhedrin's debate True to his prince, but not a slave of state: Whom David's love with honors did adorn, That from his disobedient son were torn. 881 Jotham of piercing wit, and pregnant thought; Endued by nature, and by learning taught To move assemblies, who but only tried The worse a while, then chose the better side: Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too; So much the weight of one brave man can do. Hushai, the friend of David in distress; In public storms, of manly steadfastness: By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, And join'd experience to his native truth. 891 His frugal care supplied the wanting throne; Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow, But hard the task to manage well the low; For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, When kings are forc'd to sell, or crowds to buy. Indulge one labor more, my weary Muse, For Amiel: who can Amiel's praise refuse? Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet 900 In his own worth, and without title great: The Sanhedrin long time as chief he rul❜d, Their reason guided, and their passion cool'd: So dext'rous was he in the crown's defense, So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, So fit was he to represent them all. Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: They, like th' unequal ruler of the day, 910 Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; While he withdrawn at their mad labor smiles, And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. These were the chief, a small but faith- Of worthies, in the breach who dar'd to stand, And tempt th' united fury of the land. With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, To batter down the lawful government: They show'd the king the danger of the wound; That no concessions from the throne would please, But lenitives fomented the disease; That false Achitophel's pernicious hate 939 My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd: 940 So willing to forgive th' offending age; But 't is to rule; for that's a monarch's end. They call my tenderness of blood, my fear; Tho' manly tempers can the longest bear. Yet, since they will divert my native course, 'Tis time to shew I am not good by force. Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, 951 Are burthens for a camel, not a king. If my young Samson will pretend a call To shake the column, let him share the fall: Had God ordain'd his fate for empire born, mas, "the loyal brother," suggesting the Duke of York; and Ismael, " a villainous favorite," the Earl of Shaftesbury. Pope, in his lines To Mr. Thomas Southerne, on his Birthday, 1742, alludes to him as : Tom, whom Heav'n sent down to raise "This alludes to a story Mr. Southerne told about the same time to Mr. Pope] and Mr. W[arburton] of Dryden; who, when Southerne first wrote for the stage, was so famous for his prologues that the players would act Tho' nonsense is a nauseous heavy mass; The vehicle call'd faction makes it pass. Faction in play 's the Commonwealth'sman's bribe, 20 The leaden farthing of the canting tribe; Tho' void in payment laws and statutes make it, The neighborhood, that knows the man, will take it. "Tis faction buys the votes of half the pit; Theirs is the pension-parliament of wit. In city clubs their venom let 'em vent, For there 't is safe, in its own element: Here, where their madness can have no pretense, Let 'em forget themselves an hour in sense. In one poor isle why should two fac tions be ? Small diff'rence in your vices I can see: In'drink and drabs both sides too well agree. 30 Would there were more preferments in the To hide their faults they rap out oaths and tear: Now tho' we lie, we're too well bred to swear. So we compound for half the sin we owe, But men are dipp'd for soul and body too, And when found out excuse themselves, pox cant 'em! With Latin stuff, perjuria ridet amantum. I'm not book-learn'd, to know that word in But I suspect 't is Latin for a rogue. I'm sure I never heard that scritch-owl hollow'd In my poor ears, but separation follow'd. How can such perjur'd villains e'er be saved! Achitophel 's not half so false to David. With vows and soft expressions to allure, They stand like foremen of a shop, de mure; No sooner out of sight, but they are gadding, And for the next new face ride out a-pad ding. |